Death Note According to Matsuda
by ProbableImpossibilities
Summary: "My name is Touta Matsuda. Usually followed by "you idiot." Yeah, I'm probably the most underrated member of any special task force ever... the great L probably thought his cake was smarter than me. But you know what? This is my story, too. And even if nobody wants to listen, I'm going to tell it." - The Kira Case as seen through the eyes of the Village Idiot. T for mild language.
1. Prologue

_It's been a long time since I worked the Kira case. It's strange, but the things I remember most are the small, stupid details. Things like the ceiling fan in my office. The fan was almost older than the wallpaper, and on slow, hot days, you could just barely hear the low swish as its blades creaked around in lethargic circles. Days like that were so hot that I had to keep the blinds drawn, casting the room in shadow punctuated by long yellow bars of light. Cigarette smoke wafted throughout the room, rolling through the light from the blinds like clouds on a rainy day._

_Those are the details I remember from the day when the Kira case walked into my office. _

_She was blonde as hell, wearing a lot of black. I've never placed much stock in first impressions, but I could tell right away that the woman who slunk through my door was dangerous. But she also had a strange allure, an air of mystery that swirled around her wide-brimmed hat and floated down to the heels of her stilettos. "You're Private Detective Matsuda, right?" she purred, her voice smooth and sultry._

_I leaned back in my chair, my trenchcoat collar turned up and my charcoal-grey fedora pulled low over my eyes. "Depends who's asking."_

_The woman smiled, stepping forward and leaning her hip on the edge of my desk. "Misa Amane's asking."_

_I smiled coolly back at her. "Well, then, Misa Amane can call me Matsu." As the smoke swirled around her, I saw her blood-red lips lift upwards in something between a smile and a smirk; I should have guessed then that the case she'd brought to me would only be trouble, but by that point, it was too late. I was irrevocably, inextricably, forever involved. From that moment on, there was no going back-_

"Hold it right there!"

"...?"

Aizawa scowled. "What the hell is this?! I thought you were writing an autobiography!"

Matsuda pouted, lightly pushing the scruffy detective away from his computer screen. "Look, this is just the prologue. It's... it's supposed to catch the reader's interest!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Ide drawled, arms folded across his chest, "but isn't it also supposed to not be utter bull?"

"W- What do you mean?!" Matsuda sputtered indignantly. "It's a true story!"

"No it is not!" Aizawa roared, slamming his hand down on the desk's surface. The motion made the younger detective jump, and he let out a little yelp before scooting his rolling chair backwards. Once he felt securely out of the bigger man's range, he asked, with a slight huff, "What's wrong with it, then?"

Ide snorted. "Would you like a list?"

"You're not a private detective, for starters," Aizawa grumbled, leaning back against the surface of the desk. "And you've never even had your own office, let alone one with a window and a fan."

"You didn't meet Misa-Misa that way, either," Mogi chimed in from where he stood by the door.

Matsuda chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Okay, point taken. I was just... taking creative license..."

"You never wear a trenchcoat or a fedora," Aizawa continued, masterfully ignoring the detective. "And you don't remember small details... heck, you could barely remember to pick up milk when we were all staying at the old Task Force HQ!"

Matsuda pouted. "In my defense, everybody forgets to pick up milk..."

"You stole a line from Kenneth Fearing," Ide said, sounding and looking very sour. "And what was with that smoke in the room? You don't smoke, and neither does Misa. Nobody was even smoking in the story itself."

Matsuda cringed. "It was for the ambiance!"

Aizawa shook his head, scowling. "Just scrap the whole thing. It's hopeless."

"...Fine." Matsuda sighed heavily, scooting back over to the computer and deleting all the text from the document he was working on. "I did ask you guys to give me your honest opinions... but you could've been a little bit nicer about it..."

"Oh, quit whining," Ide growled. "For writing _that_, you deserve a night in holding, at least."

Matsuda threw back his head and let out a raw cry of frustration. "Well, this sucks! What the heck am I supposed to do now?!"

Mogi hesitantly held up his hand. "I'm not good at writing, but why don't you try just telling the story exactly like it happened?"

Ide nodded sagely. "Your style is far too crapulent to pull off anything beyond that."

"Besides, the simple fact that Kira's involved is all the interest-catching you need," Aizawa added, giving the computer's ancient monitor a friendly pat. "Just make sure you don't make me look stupid."

Matsuda grinned impishly. "Should I leave out the part where you came in to work with your pants off, then?" The comment earned a sharp snicker from Ide, and even a smile from Mogi.

Aizawa scowled, cheeks bright red. "You are never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope." Matsuda laughed and cracked his knuckles. "Alright, I guess I should start writing my _real_ story..." He held out his hands over the keyboard, fingers poised over the keys like a concert pianist's, and began to type.

* * *

_My name is Touta Matsuda. Usually followed by "you idiot." Yeah, I'm probably the most underrated member of any special task force ever... my best weapon is that no one sees me as a threat. The great detective L probably thought his cake was smarter than me. But you know what? This is my story, too. And even if nobody wants to listen, I'm going to tell it. _

_It starts on a crisp autumn afternoon in Tokyo. The National Police Agency's headquarters are bustling with activity, officers swarming through the halls like bees in a hive. The Criminal Affairs division is a sprawling mess of cubicles, a sort of office slum filled with rank-and-file officers and detectives who will most likely never see a promotion. These people mill about answering ringing phones and shouting at each other, all of them pretty much the same, dressed in muted shades of greys, blues, and browns. However, one man stands out from among the rest; he strides across the room with a quiet smile on his face, exuding confidence, charisma, and enthusiasm from every pore._

_That man... is not me. It's my partner, Tamaki; the paragon of bright young promising talent. I am the slightly pathetic-looking bum spinning around listlessly in someone else's spinning chair with his hands clasped behind his head. _

_Now you're probably thinking, 'what's with that guy? He's a total slob.' Well, there's actually a pretty good reason for that lax attitude. I started working with the NPA about two years before the day in question, and I realized quickly that, while my partner was probably on the fast track to a cushy desk job, I was not going anywhere. I was actually a pretty good detective (believe it or not), but I just didn't have the connections or the ambition needed to make something more of myself. The way things stood at the time, it would have taken a miracle for me to get out of Criminal Affairs. _

_Luckily (or rather, luckily for my career, unluckily for the rest of society), the so-called god of a new world had chosen the day before to start working his "miracles."_

* * *

"Tamakiiiiii," Matsuda groaned, pushing off the corner of a nearby desk and whirling around on the spinning chair. "Today suuuucks..."

Tamaki rolled his eyes amusedly. "Hattori made you get him coffee again, didn't he?"

"Twice," Matsuda moaned, looking bitter. "I know I'm not exactly a big deal around here, but that doesn't give him the right to use me as his personal gopher!"

Tamaki shook his head. "And yet you've never actually refused him. You need to get a spine, Matsu."

Matsuda sighed dejectedly. "You're probably right... I guess I've just resigned myself to my fate." He reached lethargically across the desk and scooped up a stack of manilla files, which he then opened and started leafing through. "I'll probably be sitting here filling out paperwork on petty criminals and getting paid peanuts for the rest of my life."

Tamaki grabbed a file from Matsuda, gave it a quick once-over, and placed it carefully on the desk. "Don't talk like that; you're a great detective," he said, somewhat half-heartedly. "Don't worry, I'll help you out with this stuff later; I promised Hattori I'd help him interrogate a suspect in a murder case he's working."

"Yeah, sure," Matsuda replied, smiling weakly. "Have fun."

"Thanks. See you later." And with that, Tamaki turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Matsuda alone with his thoughts and an immense stack of paperwork. He watched Tamaki's back as he left, then stared blankly at the files for ten minutes before throwing them back on the desk with a sigh. _I'll just make him do them all when he gets back, since he decided to ditch me for that jerk Hattori..._ Matsuda nodded to himself, satisfied with that resolution, then promptly went back to spinning around lazily on the chair.

After twenty minutes or so, he was still spinning when he heard a loud, startled shuffling noise. In that same instant, everyone in the room went deathly silent. After a brief awkward pause, Matsuda slowly rotated in his chair, certain that he was in big trouble.

The moment he turned around, he found himself facing an imposing man with an imposing moustache. The rest of the officers in the room were standing at attention. Matsuda felt a lump form in his throat, and he froze, rooted firmly to the chair. "Ch- Chief Yagami..."

The chief of the NPA gazed at him silently for a few moments, as though studying him. Finally, he spoke. "You don't look like you're busy."

Matsuda gulped. "...No, sir. I'm not."

Yagami paused for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Then you can accompany me to the ICPO meeting today." He made as if to turn away, but then seemed to remember something and turned back. "What's your name, Detective...?"

Matsuda blinked. "Ah, it's Matsuda, sir."

"Nice to meet you, Matsuda. Come to my office at ten; I'll provide you with the necessary paperwork." With that, the chief turned and strode towards the door.

The other officers gradually began to go about their business a few moments after Yagami left the room. Some of them shot Matsuda hostile stares as they passed him, obviously wondering why a layabout like him had gotten such a great opportunity. The man himself simply sat in his chair, completely motionless, with his mouth hanging open.

After about five full minutes, he sat up straight and rested his elbows on the desk.

"...What the heck just happened...?"

* * *

**Author's Note: This is my first DN fanfiction, guys! I'm so excited! :D**

**I just love Matsu so much. He's totally adorkable. So I felt like I had to write something from his perspective. And... I've been itching to write some comedy. So this happened. Random noir intro is random.**

**Please just bear with me with this "Criminal Affairs" stuff... I really don't know anything about the NPA, and I've been having difficulty looking it up, so I just decided to name Matsu's division after the one Gumshoe works for in Ace Attorney. Sorry. But it's not going to be very long until he joins the Task Force, anyway, so it's not that big of a deal in the long run, I guess...?**

**Fun fact: this was written at several different airports, so it feels kind of disjointed to me... oh well. *shrugs***

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! :)**


	2. Panic at the ICPO

**Note Two:**

**Panic at the ICPO**

* * *

Two hours later, Matsuda stood before the door to the Chief's office, staring at the bronze nameplate with significant trepidation. Part of him still suspected that this was some sort of joke, and that when he opened the door, Tamaki and Hattori would be inside laughing at him. However, he couldn't imagine why those two would need to involve the Chief in a plan to punk him, so he had to assume this was for real. Still, it didn't seem possible that the Chief would ask someone like him to the ICPO meeting, especially since he'd been caught red-handed loafing. He gulped. _Is he going to fire me? God, please don't let him fire me..._

After a few full minutes of standing in front of the door sweating silently, Matsuda finally plucked up his courage and grasped the doorknob. The door swung open smoothly on well-oiled hinges, revealing an impressive, immaculate office. Chief Yagami sat behind the desk, papers stacked in neat piles all around him. When Matsuda entered, he looked up, adjusting his glasses. "You're five minutes late, Mr. Matsuda."

"S-Sorry," Matsuda stammered, wringing his hands. He would have been on time if he hadn't been so nervous...

Yagami made a sound that sounded like a soft grunt. "Well, make sure to be punctual next time." He picked up a manilla file from his desk and held it out to Matsuda. "Here is your case information. You can take a few minutes to look over it now... or you can go into the meeting blind. It's up to you."

Matsuda took the file and flipped it open. "I think I'd like to look over it now, thanks." He began to skim the file, reading over the long list of victims. A few names jumped out at him, and he glanced up at the Chief. "Most of these victims are criminals..."

"That's correct." Yagami folded his hands on the surface of his desk. "Whoever is committing these murders seems to be exclusively targeting criminals all over the world."

"Does he think he's some sort of vigilante...?" Matsuda muttered to himself, flipping through the pages of the file until he came to the details of the victims' deaths. He started to read it, blinked a few times, then looked up at the Chief, confusion evident in his eyes. "Uh, sir..."

"Is there a problem?"

"W-Well..." Matsuda fidgeted. "All these men died of heart attacks."

Yagami looked unfazed. "Yes, that's right."

Matsuda gulped. He didn't want to correct the Chief, but... "Didn't you say these were murders?"

The Chief's eyes narrowed slightly. "Over fifty criminals have died in five days; this cannot be coincidence."

"Yeah, but..." Matsuda's gaze flitted briefly about the room. "How could anyone murder all these people? And by inducing heart attacks, no less? I mean, it's really difficult to make even one murder look like a natural heart attack. You'd need some sort of drug, but..." He flipped rapidly through the file. "...the autopsy reports don't show any evidence of traceable toxins."

"We don't know how he kills," Yagami stated bluntly. There was a hard look in his eyes. "But it is the position of the National Police Agency that the person or persons responsible for these deaths are committing murder. And that is the position you and I will take during today's meeting, if it comes to that."

Matsuda blinked. "If it comes to that?"

The Chief stood up from his chair, walked around his desk, and held up his own copy of the victims list. "The vast majority of deaths have occurred within the United States; they will most likely wish to spearhead any investigation. Therefore, I don't think there will be much for you and me to do today."

_Ah._ Matsuda smiled sadly. _So that's why he picked me. I'm basically a chair-warmer._ If he was honest with himself, though, he really didn't mind. Being told he wouldn't have to do anything was a lot better than being put on the spot in front of the G8... especially with a case like this. He just couldn't wrap his head around it; murders committed all over the world as if by magic? Logically, it didn't make sense.

"Matsuda!"

"H- Huh?!"

Yagami folded his arms. "Pay attention. Or, if you can't, at least make it look like you are."

Matsuda scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, sir..."

The Chief sighed, massaging his temples, and suddenly he looked strangely tired. "The ICPO is one of the largest collections of overbearing, unreasonable people I have ever encountered in my life. There will be a lot of arguing, even more squabbling, and very little will actually get done." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Unless _he_ decides to get involved..."

Matsuda blinked. "He? Who's 'he?'"

Yagami dismissed his question with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it." He glanced at his watch, then pulled a long coat off of the coat rack in the corner and slid his arms into the sleeves. "It's time." He turned to face Matsuda, and his expression softened into an almost fatherly smile. "Are you ready?"

Matsuda gave a crooked smile, somewhat confused by the Chief's change in tone. "I think so...?"

"Good." Yagami turned his back and pulled open the door, gesturing for Matsuda to exit the office. "Let's go."

Matsuda stepped through the door, glancing hesitantly over his shoulder at the Chief. _He's looking intense again... I'm starting to get nervous. _He steeled himself. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

Matsuda gulped. "...I don't think I can do this."

He stood within the frame of an open door; in front of him stretched a cliff-like expanse of tables and chairs, set on rows of steps reminiscent of a university lecture hall, extending downwards from his feet at a nearly vertical angle. At the bottom of this drop-off, there was a small stretch of floor, three individual desks, then a low stage that boasted a larger desk and a projector screen lit up with the ICPO crest. The entire room was eerily dark... save for the light from the projector, which cast long shadows across the desks and made the atmosphere generally creepy.

But what had stopped Matsuda in his tracks was the crowd of extremely important-looking people already filing into the rows, milling about and making small talk. Half of them were dignified men at least ten years older than him, wearing suits that were probably worth more than he was. The other half were their extremely capable-looking assistants, only somewhat younger men who shot him hostile glances as they passed.

In other words, there was a lot of clout in the room, and Matsuda felt extremely intimidated.

Yagami gave him a light push forward. "It's too late to be having doubts." He pointed towards a desk in the third row from the bottom on the left side. "That's where we sit. Just go down, take a seat, and focus on the case. It will calm your nerves." Suddenly, a loud ringing began to emanate from the Chief's coat pocket, and he pulled out his cell phone before smiling apologetically at Matsuda. "Sorry, I have to take this. You go on ahead and get settled."

Matsuda nodded numbly and started to shuffle down the stairs. They were annoyingly steep, and he had to struggle just to descend them without falling flat on his face and tumbling to the floor. By the time he finally got to the designated "Japan" table and sat in the seat behind the thin sign with his name on it, he was actually a little out of breath, and could feel stares on him from every direction. Trying desperately to remain calm, he sat down and opened his case file on the surface of the desk, flipping through it but not really processing anything. Now that he was actually here, alone, in this room, representing the NPA, in front of all these really important people, he wasn't nervous anymore.

He was scared sh*tless.

Fidgeting like a squirrel jacked up on caffeine, Matsuda impulsively turned to the person on his left and waved. "Hello..."

The man, a thin dark thirty-something whose name tag sported a Russian flag, simply scowled at him, grey eyes narrowed. "...Hi."

"What's up with these lights, huh?" Matsuda stammered, talking reflexively. "I mean, does it really need to be this dark in here? It's kinda creeping me out..."

The Russian simply stared at him, as if trying to decide if this young Japanese man was stupid or just a weirdo. After almost a full minute, he opened his mouth. _"Наушники."_

Matsuda blinked. "H- Huh?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Your headset," he said, motioning to the microphone wrapped around his own head.

"Oh." Matsuda glanced down at his desk, noticing the piece of equipment that rested along its edge for the first time. He picked it up and nestled it in his hair above his ears, blushing with embarrassment. "Thanks."

The man grunted and turned away from him, obviously signaling that he refused to be bothered any further. Matsuda sighed, leaning over his desk with his elbows on the surface and his chin in his hands. _I really don't know what I'm doing… Chief, please come back soon._

One of the men seated at the three desks in the front of the room cleared his throat into his microphone, sending an earsplitting screech of feedback blasting through everyone's headsets. "I call this meeting of the International Criminal Police Organization to order. Are all representatives present?"

The man next to him responded with a curt "Yes," and the first man nodded and continued. "This meeting has been called in order to address what is quickly becoming an international issue: the deaths of criminals all over the world." He turned to the man on his right. "Mr. Harris will summarize the details."

Harris stood, holding a file in his hands. "There have been fifty-two deaths in the past week, and that's just those we know about. Every single one from cardiac arrest." He was a short man with a fat moustache, and he sounded like he had a wad of cotton stuffed in his mouth. "All of the victims are criminals either being pursued by the police, or already behind bars. We may assume that more wanted criminals, whose whereabouts are unknown, have died as well, in which case, the death toll would be well over one hundred…"

"But they're all violent criminals who deserve the death penalty several times over," someone from the right side of the room interjected. "Is it really a great concern?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the room exploded into heated debate. Matsuda could only stare blankly ahead, completely overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of voices blowing up his headset. It seemed to him that many of the representatives were arguing simply for argument's sake, and their rabid enraged shouting made him want to crawl into a hole. He gradually became aware that he was covering his ears with his palms, though of course the sound was coming in through his headset. _I feel like I'm going to start bleeding from my ears... dear God, please make it stop..._

Suddenly, he heard a faint shuffling amidst the hubbub, and turned to see Soichiro Yagami slide quietly into his seat and put on his headset. "Oh, Chief, they started the meeting without you," he murmured. Inwardly, he was deliriously screaming _Thank God! _and various other expressions of intense relief.

Yagami gave a slight nod. "I got an urgent call from headquarters."

Matsuda's face took on a pained expression. "...You didn't miss much."

During the few seconds it had taken him to talk to the Chief, the arguing among the representatives had intensified to ridiculous levels. It was now nearly impossible to understand a single word, and people were even shouting at each other in their native languages.

"I dare you to say that again - !"

"But our pride as police - "

_"Din moster älskar torsk!"_

"No, YOU'RE an idiot!"

"I want a milkshake!"

Matsuda was about to give up and take off his headset when the Russian man on his right suddenly threw his own microphone on the ground and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. When he noticed his neighbor's confused stare, he huffed. "LeBeau said my father smelled of elderberries."

Matsuda would have responded with something about how out of control the situation was becoming, but he was forced to duck when a stray shoe thrown by someone near the front row sailed over his head and hit a representative from England in the face. He turned to the Chief, incredulous. "Is this normal?!"

Yagami sighed heavily. "Well, the shoe is new. This case must scare them."

"I think we have no choice." Harris' voice cut suddenly through the chaos; he must have used some sort of amplifier. "This is another one for L."

Instantly, the room fell completely and utterly silent. No one moved; it was almost as if someone had simply stopped time.

Matsuda turned slowly to the Chief, trying to avoid making any sudden moves. He felt like he might spook the delegates. "L?" he whispered, holding his hand over his microphone. "What's that?"

A low murmur began to gradually fill the room as the representatives broke free from the sudden spell of silence. Yagami folded his arms. "I forgot, this is your first time." His expression became serious. "Nobody knows L's real name or whereabouts, or even what he looks like. But he has solved countless unsolved cases so far." He stroked his moustache pensively. "You might say he's our trump card... our ace in the hole... something like that."

_Our trump card...?_ Matsuda gulped. _Just what sort of person is this L?!_

"But they say L only gets involved in cases that interest him," one man pointed out.

"And anyway," another interjected, "we have no way of contacting him!"

"L is already involved."

Matsuda turned to face the stage and nearly jumped out of his chair. The stage itself had been completely unoccupied before, but now a tall man dressed in a long trenchcoat and a fedora that obscured his face stood stoically before the desk, one hand gripping a large briefcase. "L has been investigating this case for some days now," the man stated calmly, his voice filling the room even without a microphone.

"Watari," someone muttered, and Matsuda turned to the Chief. "There's another Japanese here?" he asked hesitantly. _Maybe he was supposed to come here instead of me..._

"He isn't with us," Yagami stated, as if he'd read the younger man's mind. "Watari is the only person who can contact L... but nobody really knows who he is, either."

Matsuda watched the mysterious man with undisguised awe. _That guy is so cool… it's like he's right out of one of those old noir movies I used to watch when I was in high school. _"This is so exciting…" he murmured.

The Chief glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Uh, n- nothing…"

* * *

_It's true. At that point, for probably the first time since I became a cop, I felt really excited about the case. L was like a phantom to me, ephemeral and dangerous but highly alluring. And while I realize now that "alluring" may not have been the best choice of words considering all the yaoi fiction out there, it's really the only way to describe it. I mean, who wouldn't be interested in some secret super-sleuth who went by only a letter and had cool people that looked like cop Batman deliver his messages for him?_

* * *

"Silence, please," Watari commanded, placing an open laptop and a microphone on the surface of the desk. "You will now hear L speak."

* * *

_Of course, I had no idea what sort of person L really was. And I definitely couldn't have suspected how much he would change my life._

_...but not in a weird way, I swear. Just a… dramatic way._

* * *

The ICPO logo on the projector screen suddenly disappeared, and a black calligraphic 'L' took its place. Matsuda leaned forward expectantly; he would finally get to hear the voice of this mysterious detective.

The room was silent for a few moments, then an electronic voice filtered through the speakers.

"Good afternoon. This is L."

…

…

…

…

"...what the heck?!" Matsuda exclaimed, feeling somewhat let down. "He sounds like a chipmunk!"

"Who said that?" the voice questioned. It was hard to tell if it was trying to keep from sounding offended or simply nonplussed.

Matsuda hesitantly raised his hand, trembling slightly as all eyes turned to him. The voice of L was silent for a few moments, then asked, "What's your name?"

"M- Matsuda…" the detective stammered. _Oh man, now I've done it. What's he gonna do to me? Is he gonna kick me out? Is he gonna make his ninja messenger kill me?! _

The voice made a soft, computerized 'hm.' "Matsuda… you're an idiot."

"...Ehh?!"

* * *

**Author's Note: And with that, a beautiful friendship full of mutual admiration was formed. *snerk***

**Anyway, L has now officially entered the picture, and things are happening. EXCITEMENT! Oh, and just so you know, these chapters will be interspersed with random bits of Matsu-narration, like the ones from the previous chapter. These will be separated from the main text and italicized.**

**So, yeah. I'm gonna be adding in some stuff that isn't technically in these scenes that are actually from the manga/anime to keep it fresh, so it's not me being intentionally inaccurate or anything. Thanks for reading! :)**

**(Also, as a side note, I drew the cover image for this fic myself. I say that because I'm willing to trade cover images for one-shots, if anybody's interested. Just throwing that out there.)**


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